Black Dragon
by EmperorEngima
Summary: Summary: Harry was born a psychopath with eidetic memory. Genius, dark/evil Harry! HarryXMultiple


**Summary:** **Harry was born a psychopath with eidetic memory Genius!Harry Manipulative!Harry Dark-Evil!Harry**

 **Other Warnings: Be prepared. If you get sick to your stomach easily, don't read. This will be HarryXMany because psychopaths are known to manipulate people. Harry will use his good looks to charm. This fic is DARK!**

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Five year old Harry Potter sat in the shade of one of the many oak trees. His legs were pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them as if shielding himself from something. He peered at the playground, a mixture of disgust and curiosity in his eyes. All the shrieking children, they were laughing. Harry had no idea why. Their faces were lit up. It was the same expression that Dudley made when he got a few lollipops. Happiness. Harry remembered everything.

All thoughts, all memories, simply stored away in his mind. He could bring them up at will. Harry made the naive mistake asking his Aunt Petunia about it. Extremely naive mistake. She, much like the children on the playground, shrieked and said, "Stop speaking freakish!" She then smacked him. Harry had been four and a half then. Now he was old enough to know that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon just didn't care. Well, Aunt Petunia more than anyone else. Uncle Vernon simply read his newspaper most mornings. You could say Harry preferred Uncle Vernon punishing him. He just made him go to his room.

"Harry dear, can you come hear for a second?" Harry looked up at Mrs. Barnes. She was motioning him over. Harry stood up and walked to where she sat in the sunlight.  
"Yes Mrs. Barnes?" He asked, making sure to be as polite and charming as possible.

Mrs. Barnes gave him a smile, "Why were you all alone."

"I don't like people. People don't like me." Harry would be ashamed of himself if he were actually upset about it. Like, more like hated. Even at his young age, Harry knew what he wanted. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be adored. Harry deserved it.

"What? Of course you do Harry! Go play with the other children!" Mrs. Barnes responded joyfully, she pointed her clipboard at a small ring of children. One specific ring of children that Harry had been avoiding. It had Dudley in it. Harry despised Dudley. "Isn't that your cousin, I'm sure he wants to play with you!"

"Mrs. Barnes, I don't wish to play with them. I prefer being alone." Harry liked to think himself a reasonable person. Truly he did, but Mrs. Barnes was grating on his last nerve. Of course, he didn't let it show, but he would be getting her back for her tempting him. Harry knew himself special. He could do things. Harry could talk to the garden snakes, he could make a spider twirl as if it were dancing and then make it spasm until it's legs curled up. It was something his parents could do. Trust him, he could remember.

Mrs. Barnes' smile faded from her make-up covered face, "Harry, go play with the children," she ordered him. Her voice meaning business. A spark of malice entered Harry's eye. He felt the familiar surge of energy rush through him and he couldn't help but let out a smirk.

"Young man, why are you looking at me like that?" Mrs. Barnes demanded. Harry concentrated his energy into the ground. The tree roots from the nearest oak tree spread through the ground conspicuously until they were planted right underneath his dear teacher. Then, Harry let them soar up as fast as they could. A painful cry suddenly erupted from Mrs. Barnes mouth as he felt the roots rip into her intestines and destroying everything.

He could hear her fellow teachers begin to run over. Harry adopted a terrified look on his face and began to force himself to cry. That's what kids did when they were frightened. At least, that's what Dudley did. Harry wasn't scared of anything. Nothing could get away with harming him.

Blood spurted on him, seeping into the cloth of his white shirt. Harry found that he liked the feeling of revenge. He peeked one eye open to dare look at his beautiful masterpiece. He found that he liked what he saw. As teachers and kids both screamed at the sight, Harry had to hide his smile. The vines had creeped from Mrs. Barnes mouth, one even sprouting a little white flower. The picture was forever painted in his mind. Harry felt the vines shudder back to where the originally came from.

School had been canceled. The police had showed up. No one blamed Harry, how could a little boy have possibly killed his teacher the way he did. Especially since he was though of as one of the sweetest in class. When Harry stepped into Aunt Petunia's car, he knew that today was probably going to be the happiest day in his life. At least as happy as it would get.

He had never killed anyone before. Harry felt no different than how he felt yesterday. Harry flexed his fingers. He couldn't help but wonder what he could do to Aunt Petunia? He could cause her precious flowers to seek vengeance on her, to wrap her throat up with their cute green vines and squeeze...until the life fled from her cheeks and she was thrown into a coffin.

The ride home was silent. Aunt Petunia comforted Dudley and left Harry to his own devices, for once. Harry narrowed his eyes and leered jealously at the sight of Dudley and Petunia. Why should Dudley get that and not Harry. Oh Harry had tons of ideas of how to hurt Dudley! The idea of forgotten toys making life forget Dudley...Harry forced his laughter down. It wasn't mature. The rest of the day was pure bliss, Aunt Petunia didn't even make Harry do his chore!

A few days later, Harry and Dudley were home-schooled. By home-schooled, Petunia dropped Harry and Dudley at her friend's house every week day and her friend taught them. Harry knew that Mrs. Angela thought nothing but bad things about him, having heard too much of Aunt Petunia's false gossip. Being the smart child he is, Harry understood he couldn't kill her. Not this quickly anyway. It'd be too noticeable. Besides, Aunt Petunia knew what he was. He knew she knew, for he was his mother's sister. Harry knew he wasn't the only one who had these powers, but he was the only one who used to them to their full potential.

It was strange how his parents had been so cautious with their magic, especially around humans? Harry distinctly remembered his father saying a muffled 'M' word. Whatever it meant, it must have been bad, for mum had hit him in his shoulder. They thought nicely of the humans. Harry knew he wouldn't have gotten along very well with his parents, they would stubbed his energy. His power. They would have been afrai-A chip began came flying across the room and hit Harry in the head.

Harry's hand flew up to to where the bag had hit him. Rage coursed through his veins. He nearly broke his neck looking to where it had come from. Dudley snorted and began to giggle. "Sorry, I thought you were the trashcan, freak. I should have known because of how freakish looking you are!" Unlike what Dudley expected, Harry held his temper. He would get what was coming to him. Hopefully that day would be soon.

"You shouldn't throw things Dudley and you shouldn't say that stuff." Harry's eyes brightened when he heard Mrs. Angela. She sat, her face pulled in shock. Realization that Harry was just a poor innocent victim. For added effect, Harry made sure a tear fell from his eye.

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 **Q: Do you think Tom/Voldemort was a psychopath? Or was just some miserable kid who got his mind twisted by the dark arts?**


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